


Wait For It...

by somewhereelse



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-25
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-24 16:09:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8378791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somewhereelse/pseuds/somewhereelse
Summary: AU. Felicity is Oliver's little sister's best friend. The cheesy, coming-of-age movie trope does not appreciate these idiots destroying its well-established timelines.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Re: characterization. I imagine Goth!Felicity started with Sharpie'd black fingernails while bored during calculus and, once Donna freaked the hell out, snowballed into the very mature reaction of "Oh you thought that was bad? HOW DO YOU LIKE ME NOW?"

 

"Okay so Oliver will pick you up in the morning and we'll see you here.”

"Oliver?" Felicity had been absentmindedly nodding along to Thea's itinerary before she choked on the name.

"Yeah?" From Thea's drawn out response, she knew the second-guessing was now raising flags with her best friend. "You guys are on the same flight, and he offered."

Felicity silently facepalmed, grateful that Thea hadn't wanted to facetime. "Right. Of course. You gave him my address?"

"Yep," Thea popped the 'p', and Felicity could hear her restored good mood. "See you soon!"

Felicity flopped onto her bed, half full of clothes she'd been meaning to pack. "Shit." With that, she threw herself upward and began pulling apart her closet once more.

* * *

Their friendship was conventional only in the realm of cheesy, coming-of-age high school movies.

Felicity had been the awkward transfer sophomore year of high school; Thea had been the reigning Queen B of the grade, her position solidified by Oliver's status as the senior BMOC. When they'd been paired up for a project, both had been skeptical, but Felicity's unwillingness to take any of Thea's highhandedness and Thea's grudging respect for Felicity's smarts made for a lasting friendship, which was, against all odds, encouraged by their parents.

Moira could overlook Felicity's humble beginnings in favor of the girl's intelligence and manners--and supernatural ability to keep her youngest child somewhat in line. Donna could overlook Thea's tendency to behave like a spoiled princess in favor of the girl's fierce devotion and loyalty--and real life presence in her daughter's mostly virtual world. All parties involved, thankfully, overlooked Felicity's universe-defining crush on Oliver until he left for college.

After two blissful years of high school without a protective older brother or embarrassing crush, college didn't disrupt their dynamic at all. Felicity made the trudge home for every holiday, and Thea made the more than occasional cross-country jaunt to crash at Felicity's MIT dorm room and Oliver's Harvard apartment in turns.

Except Thea's first visit was when Felicity's real trouble began.

Under the persistent hand of her roommate Caitlin, Felicity had followed the trope deeply beloved by cheesy, coming-of-age college movies and made the transformation from modest nerd to...somewhat less modest nerd. By no means had she become the stereotypical coed in a National Lampoon movie, but the changed appearance had been enough to startle even Thea, who knew better than anyone the potential for shitstirrer lying beneath the docile computer nerd surface. Wanting to see how far the new persona went, Thea had eagerly called Oliver and, under threat of the girls finding a party without his supervision, wrangled an invitation to his frat's party that night.

And Felicity--letting her deep knowledge of cheesy, coming-of-age movies overwhelm her common sense--allowed Caitlin and Thea to doll her up, for lack of a better term. She arrived at the party, clutching Thea's and Caitlin's hands for dear life, and eager to see Oliver's reaction to the new her.

Which was disappointing in a word.

He greeted Thea with the enthusiasm of an older brother about to watch his little sister get her flirt on with his friends, took a moment to wink at Caitlin just to make her swoon, and patted her on the shoulder before going off in the direction of his name being called. Felicity could only give a long blink at the unexpected lack of reaction before the girls, oblivious to the real reason she had allowed them to turn her into Computer Geek Barbie, dragged her over to the keg.

At some point in the night, despondent and feeling vaguely abandoned by the girls who seemed to be having the time of their lives, Felicity turned to Cooper, a guy she recognized from her Advanced Coding class and who appeared equally out of place at this Harvard frat party, for comfort. When the situation spun a little out of control, before she could try to put the brakes on, she felt Cooper being wrenched off her and looked up to find Oliver standing over them with all the rage of an avenging older brother. With Thea's and Caitlin's help, she managed to keep confused Cooper from being slaughtered for getting handsy with the wrong girl. 

Later, after sitting through Oliver's hypocritical lecture about girls who drink too much and guys who don't have boundaries--Felicity held her tongue about not having had more than a beer--the girls hightailed it back to MIT. Lying in bed next to Thea, Felicity went over the events of the night, picking apart how Oliver even knew to come to her rescue. She had just barely pulled her shoulder away, had just been bringing her hand up to press against Cooper's chest, when Oliver had pulled him off. Before that, she'd been fine, if not unnecessarily emotional about Oliver's unintended rejection.

It didn't take her long to light on the realization that Oliver had been keeping an eye on them the entire night. No guy had touched, let alone inappropriately touched, Thea, who had spent the two years of high school without Oliver scoring every guy she wanted. She had been given a wider berth until he decided, correctly or not, that things had gotten out of her control. She had Oliver's attention as long as he thought she needed his protection.

Felicity carried that knowledge with her until Oliver's next frat party, where she inserted herself into the same situation to the same result. It took her about two minutes to realize what a stupid, unsustainable plan it was once Oliver again laid into her about knowing her limits and not trusting any guy who came along with a smile, but the seed had been planted. Every time Thea or even Tommy came to visit, she would find herself at a party with Oliver, who did nothing but stare at her skeptically the entire night, waiting for her to cause trouble.

So she did.

Because if Oliver was going to peg her as the nerd-turned-wild-child after one accidental and one intentional incident, then she might as well act the part. The first few parties found her flirting again with Cooper, who seemed quick to forgive and forget the previous Oliver incident. She learned that the MIT student, with a tendency toward hacktivism, had a cousin in the frat, hence the invites. At the next party, she learned that said cousin had been kicked out of the frat and Cooper had been banned from all future parties. Oliver's only response was a raised eyebrow and slight smirk.

So she moved on. Pretended to drink too much and danced messily with a number of guys, never going too far out of line--Thea certainly trampled all over the line way more than she did--but just enough to make Oliver's fists clench. He, of course, kept up his playboy reputation and did nothing to curtail his own behaviour so she didn't feel nearly as bad as she should have. Aside from the occasional knowing look from Tommy, everyone else, including Thea, seemed oblivious to her manufactured behavior. After awhile, it it stopped being just a way to unnerve Oliver and became a legitimate outlet to let loose, at least to an extent.

It was almost a sigh of relief when they both graduated--at the same time because Oliver needed a few extra years to get his act together--and she left Boston behind. Felicity had grown tired of the exaggerated wild child act and was more than happy to settle back into that initial compromise--Computer Geek Barbie with some people skills--that she'd found at the beginning of college.

* * *

Oliver automatically thanked Diggle when he pulled up to the unfamiliar townhouse, resisting the urge to slam his forehead against the headrest. It had been a dumb idea to offer, but once the words had left his mouth, Thea had been overjoyed at the thought. As far as she knew, her two favorite people had no reason to want to avoid spending time together.

When he caught Diggle watching him in the rearview mirror, he steeled his spine and got out of the car, narrowly avoiding rolling his eyes at his omnipotent driver. Dig had met Felicity during one of Thea's visits and, like everyone else in his freaking life, had been immediately charmed by the blonde. Since then, the man had done nothing but give him knowing looks whenever she was brought up in conversation.

He knocked sharply on the front door, knowing from Thea that Felicity had managed to purchase the entire building, thanks to smart investments and her jaw-dropping salary. When no response was forthcoming, Oliver repeated the knock. Sure it was early, but she knew when their flight was and Felicity was always, even when sloppy drunk, on time. He was just raising his fist again when the door swung open and he was greeted by a mass of disshelved blond hair and crooked glasses.

If not for her form-fitting dress and heeled boots, Oliver would have thought she had just slid out of bed. Mentally slapping himself for that train of thought, he pasted on a smile that he was sure looked like a grimace. "Morning. Late night?"

Her head tilted slightly in confusion, and Oliver realized it was an inappropriate assumption to make. He hadn't seen much of Felicity since they both left Massachusetts two years ago. Despite not having many friends in the city, just hanger-ons and business associates, he'd made it a point to avoid his little sister's best friend and only saw her at the occasional business function or when Thea or Tommy visited, which was markedly less often now that everyone had grown up jobs. Still, she seemed to have calmed down since college, when he couldn't show up to his own frat parties without feeling like he was being raked over coals the entire time.

At restaurants, she would linger over dessert, ignoring her constantly chiming phone. On one occasion, she had left the device face-up, so he'd been privy to the parade of male contacts that popped up on the screen but went unanswered. At bars, she would stick close to Thea, only venturing onto the dance floor when the brunette pulled her there. Fortunately for his sanity, the girls shook off any interested parties, eager to spend the limited time with each other and not strangers. Always, she was courteous, if not dismissive, with him and oblivious to any effect she had on his mental and physical state.

The confusion clearing from her eyes jolted him back into reality, and he shifted back slightly when she adopted that wicked expression that used to knock him for six back in college. "Mmm, the latest. Would you mind grabbing my suitcase from the top of the stairs? Quietly, please. Sam is still asleep, and he's such a grouch in the mornings. I'd hate to wake him." 

Oliver was positive he hadn't hidden his shock when she grinned before swinging the door open wider and sauntering inside past the staircase.

* * *

"You weren't going to do that," Felicity scolded herself in the bathroom mirror.

Sure, Oliver had put her on the defensive by assuming she had been out the night before, instead of furiously working to fix a coding error so that it wouldn't interfere with her long awaited vacation. But she had sworn the days of pretending to be someone she wasn't just to rattle Oliver Queen's cage were behind her. She'd been doing so well during the few times they'd seen each other after college, focusing on quality time with Thea or Tommy, who'd made the effort to come see them, instead of acting out just to draw a reaction from Oliver.

When Thea had announced that Oliver would be picking her up for the airport, she'd wanted to skip the trip entirely. She was too exhausted to deal with Oliver constantly judging her for a few irresponsible decisions she made at 17. Leaving college and being thrust into the real world had just lead to the adoption of another mask for her, this time ambitious business woman. It had served her well so far, as the youngest vice president of Palmer Tech, but she had been looking forward to spending time as nothing other than Thea's best friend.

For the first time, she cursed her mom for insisting that she spend the holidays with the Queens since Donna was taking that cruise with her new boyfriend. She'd always downplayed the out-of-control coed Oliver obviously still believed her to be around Moira and Robert, because everyone knew she had the reputation of a goody two-shoes to maintain back in Starling. But she was tired of pretending at both extremes. Unfortunately, in her mind, there was nothing more embarrassing than Oliver finding out that her ridiculous college behavior had started as a ploy to catch his attention.

With efficient motions, Felicity pulled her hair back into its usual ponytail. "Put on your armor and shut up for once in your life, Smoak."

* * *

"Oliver, what are you doing?" Dig's voice dragged him back to the present, where he was standing at the foot of Felicity's stairs and staring at her black suitcase. "Is that Felicity's suitcase?"

Numbly, he nodded, startling when Dig shouldered past him up the stairs. The larger man's footsteps sounded like a tyrannosaurus rex's in his mind, and he quickly rushed up to hush the man. "Can you walk any louder?" Oliver complained, catching Dig's sleeve to slow him down.

"Does it matter? Felicity's awake. Is Sam still asleep? Lazy good-for-nothing." Dig carried on stomping up the stairs, oblivious to the loop he'd thrown Oliver for. Glancing back over his shoulder, he caught Oliver's stunned expression and almost laughed. "I take it you haven't met Sam."

"Why have you met him?" Oliver threw back accusingly. He was confused as to how Dig seemed to be a part of Felicity's life, but more concerned with how Dig didn't approve of this Sam. Dig was an excellent judge of character, and if Felicity was seeing someone that Diggle didn't like, then someone, probably not him, needed to have a conversation with her.

"Lyla and Felicity are buds. There aren't many women in the world of cyber security," Dig explained shortly, before he pushed open a door. "Sam! Get up!"

"Dig, you weren't supposed to wake him!" Felicity called out almost simultaneously from the foot of the stairs. Oliver had just turned to look at her when a dog came bolting out of the open door and down the stairs to twine around Felicity's legs.

"Sam is a dog," he stated obviously. Dig muffled a laugh as he bent to pick up the suitcase and lug it down the stairs.

Oliver walked past Felicity cuddling the dog and straight to the car without another look backwards, missing the slightly chastened look she gave to a still grinning Diggle.

* * *

"So is Caitlin coming by to pick up Sam later?" Dig questioned when they pulled up to a red light.

Felicity mumbled in the affirmative but wasn't willing to venture any further into the whole 'mislead Oliver into thinking her dog was a lover' rabbit hole. Thankfully, the man had pulled out a tablet and looked to be reviewing documents instead of focusing on her ridiculous lie.

For his part, Oliver was staring blankly at the device in his hand. He knew without looking that Felicity had contorted herself into a ball on the other end of the bench seat, as far as possible as she could be from him. So it was maybe his fault for making a baseless assumption about how she'd spent the night just because she hadn't answered her door immediately. But she didn't have to draw it out and torture his mind like that.

Then again, Felicity dropped innuendos like she spoke in computer code. She probably hadn't even noticed or registered the insinuation about Sam when she'd let him into her house. Well, no. He might have believed that about high school Felicity, who perpetually blushed around him and could barely stop from mooning over him to their parents' amusement, but after meeting college Felicity, who'd been more than eager to throw his sudden and somewhat reluctant attraction to the grown-up her in his face, he knew better. She'd been purposefully taunting him.

Uncomfortable silence it would have to be. For the hour to the airport. And the three hours on the plane. And the half hour to his parents' house.


	2. Chapter 2

“You know how Mom is under the impression that you need to settle down?”

“I’m familiar,” Oliver ground out, eyes focused on the pilot who’d followed them in from where he’d been greeting embarking passengers at the door to flirt outrageously with Felicity. “What about it?”

“She maybe invited Isabel Rochev to dinner tonight, and a bunch of other stuff. I know,” Thea soothed in response to the disbelieving choking sounds he made. “So I told her about you and Felicity traveling home together and kind of... let her imagination go wild.”

“You let Mom think that we’re together,” Oliver quickly interpreted, knowing that it was one of his mother’s favorite fantasies. When they’d been teenagers living at home, it was something Moira and Donna constantly gushed over—their sweet children finding love together. When they’d been young adults in college, it’d been something to tease them about, what with their cooler and more distant interactions around their parents. Hormones, obviously. Neither mother had let go of the possibility entirely, and there went Thea, throwing fuel on the fire.

“Oh come on, I’m sure Felicity would be happy to help out. You know how much Isabel pisses her off.” Yes, he was aware of how often the other woman, a rising star at QC, spoke down about Felicity, oddly trying to curry favor with his parents by putting down someone they loved and had accepted as family. Her favorite insults centered around Felicity as a manipulative charity case, someone who was only succeeding in life due to the Queens’ continued influence and her willingness to be on her knees; Oliver thought he’d seen Thea actually bare her teeth at the other woman after that one. “Wouldn’t it be a sucker punch to watch you and Felicity be together when she was all but promised a clear shot at Oliver Queen?” Yes, it would be painful—for all parties involved—for him and Felicity to couple up for the sole purpose of driving that harpy mad.

But he couldn’t deny that the idea of cozying up to Felicity was appealing. As a teenager, she’d been sweet and shy, an unexpected but balancing counterpart to Thea’s mischievous ways. Even her obvious crush hadn’t annoyed him too much, given that she seemed more embarrassed by it than anything. When she’d started to come into her own during college, he’d been unbelievably tempted but knew better than to disrupt the long distance friendship between the girls—and her potential future. Felicity was—is—a certified genius; he was a trust fund baby about to flunk out of his third college. The full-fledged adult Felicity was someone he found barely resistable: loving, brilliant, charismatic, gorgeous, and someone he’d spent several years entertaining idle thoughts about, all in the realm of what it’d be like to be hers.

The chance to act out those daydreams wasn’t something he’d actively turn down, not when it was being handed to him on a silver platter like this.

Except for the part where she didn’t actually want him. He’d lost his chance in college, when she didn’t know any better and still thought of him as a catch. Now that he’s finally managed to get his shit somewhat together, she recognized herself for what she always had been: out of his league. Fun to tease as some twisted revenge for dismissing her as Thea’s nerdy friend early on but no one to waste time on.

Yet, all in all, being driven to distraction by the woman he couldn’t have sounded way better than getting twisted up in Isabel’s clutches during the most wonderful time of the year. He and Felicity could be civil, even friendly, as long as he reined in the disapproving older brother act—since she didn’t want him, he at least wanted to make sure she ended up with someone good—and she didn’t do anything too tempting, like breathe.

“Fine, but you have to convince her,” Oliver reasoned, trying to make himself sound reluctant. He’d come a long way from getting random guys kicked out of the fraternity so their cousins wouldn’t have a chance to hit on Felicity, but he knew any hint of interference with her life was still as unwelcome.

“Already did,” Thea chirped, and he realized that was why Felicity had been eying him speculatively before handing the phone back to him. He furrowed his forehead in confusion; strange, that she would even agree.

“Then why is she eye-fucking this pilot in front of me?” Oliver muttered, drowning out whatever else Thea had been saying. “Thanks for the heads up. I’ll see you at home. Bye, Speedy.”

“Hey,” he gave her a charming smile and rested his palm on her bare hip, sliding his fingers under the cutout in her dress to reach for the small of her back. _Fuck_ , she felt amazing. So what if they weren’t in Starling yet? A little practice never hurt anybody. It didn’t take much more than his hand placement and a pointed glare for the pilot to make his excuses and retreat to the cockpit.

Felicity fought back the goosebumps to extract his hand _from inside her dress_ —dear mother of everything holy was he trying to give her a heart attack—and respond with an unimpressed look. “What the hell was that about?”

“What? You’re mine.” His tone was carefully flippant, but Oliver couldn’t help the spike of adrenaline at the thought, even as he watched her fight a shiver of revulsion. “For the week at least.”

“Just because I want to piss off Isabel, doesn’t mean I’m yours.” Still, Felicity had to suppress the thrill that raced down her spine at his chauvinistic declaration. She would have liked an acknowledgement of the converse—that he would also be hers—but knew those were dangerous thoughts to harbor.

* * *

“Gum?” Felicity asked, reaching down to rummage through her purse. She’d been watching him flex his jaw for the last five minutes, trying to pop the pressure in his ears. Initially, it’d been fascinating and made her wonder what he’d do if she leaned over to lick his jawline, but now it was just tiresome.

“Thanks,” Oliver murmured, taking a piece from the proffered pack. When he handed it back, he noticed her slightly trembling fingers and the knee that wouldn’t stop bouncing. “Are you still—”

“Afraid of heights? Oh yeah,” she confirmed with a slightly brittle laugh. “Good thing Ray’s newest obsession is building a flying suit. The guy basically wants to be Superman, not that he needs the help because have you seen him?” Felicity had started off trying to make a joke but once again found herself in hot water due to her mouth that just would not cooperate with her brain. While she was mentally chastising herself for the dumb ramble, Oliver had frowned deeply and clenched his jaw. “What? You know by now that I didn’t mean to say that,” she sighed, already knowing she was going to regret it.

_Ray_. Oliver’s brain had caught on the familiarity with which she admiringly talked about Palmer Tech’s founder and CEO, and he couldn’t hide the scowl. Freaking annoying, genius, pretty boy. “Should you be calling your boss by his first name? It seems inappropriate.”

“God, Oliver, I’m a vice president, not the kid who mows his lawn. Are you telling me all of your vice presidents call you _Mr. Queen_?” Felicity huskily lowered her voice at the title and stifled a grin when he squirmed in his seat.

He had to clench his fists against the parade of cliché fantasies. “None of my vice presidents are young, pretty blondes,” Oliver mumbled quietly once he’d recovered from her teasing.

Felicity dropped her head into her hands. “Oh my god, you have to be kidding,” she groaned, leveling him with a disbelieving look through the curtain of her hair. “Don’t,” she warned when he opened his mouth again but, characteristically, he ignored it.

“I’m just trying to look out for you. Other people—”

“Nope, stop right there. Your advice wasn’t solicited and it isn’t appreciated. I don’t know why I still let you get to me like this when it’s clear you...” she trailed off, and Oliver silently prodded her with an inquiring eyebrow. “When it’s clear you’ll always disapprove of me, that I’ll never be good enough for you—r family.” She bit her lip at the slip up and hoped that he wouldn’t notice.

Felicity had always tried to ignore it, but it was increasingly undeniable that Oliver saw her the same way as the majority of Starling City’s elite: a girl from the wrong side of the tracks willing to do anything to climb the ladder. It was there in high school when he barely acknowledged her despite her and Thea’s close friendship. It was there in college when he kept her from associating with his friends and held her to that ridiculous double standard for drinking and hooking up. And it was there now when he undermined her accomplishments under the flimsy premise of looking out for her.

Those may have been society’s ugly preconceived notions, but they were also Oliver’s. Not even her status as Thea’s best friend stopped him from always viewing her in the worst light. Sure, there were moments when she knew she’d gotten under his skin, when he wanted her too, but, ultimately, those moments weren’t enough—and he had no desire to try for more, at least not with her.

She really needed to come to terms with that and fast.

Too much of her life had been wasted on immature fantasies of being with who she had dubbed the real Oliver. Aside from the hard-bodied, almost inhuman attractiveness, the real Oliver was the dedicated CEO, loyal friend, and devoted son, who was always, _always_ patient, considerate, and kind with his sister. In short, the man who didn’t exist in the eyes of the rest of the world that only saw the speeding tickets, systematic womanizing, and overall reckless behavior of his heyday. Oliver obviously reserved the very best of himself for those he loved, and even more obviously, she would never be among them.

No amount of ugly duckling transformations or legitimate success was going to switch on Oliver’s light bulb and convince him that she was _the one_.

Felicity dropped her head back onto the headrest, unsurprised that Oliver wasn’t even attempting to deny her somewhat harsh accusation. She doubted he ever put much thought into how he made her feel. Now that the air had been cleared, so to speak, this fake relationship would only be more awkward. Felicity had no idea why she’d agreed to Thea’s harebrained scheme, other than her undying curiosity to see what it’d be like to be with Oliver, but now they were stuck. No way out other than to make Thea look insane or as if she had seriously regressed to her early high school days of almost compulsive lying.

She fumbled for the headphones stashed in the seatback pocket, desperate for a way to cut off the painful silence. “Look, I’ll help you out with Isabel because no one deserves that, but I think we should really just stay out of each other’s lives after this. I mean, not that you’ve ever wanted to spend time with me. At least we can blame it on a bad breakup if anyone asks.”

Oliver only gaped wordlessly, still caught completely off-guard, as she jammed her headphones in and turned to stare out the window.

* * *

“Mr. Queen?”

Oliver greeted the family driver with a tight smile. “Where’s Felicity?” He assumed that she beat him out given that she’d slipped by him and bolted off the plane once the door opened.

“Ms. Smoak already left. A friend picked her up. There wasn’t much room in his car so she asked me to retrieve her suitcase and said you know which one it is.”

Oliver grunted in agreement, his thoughts stuck on how she had left in a man’s car and down the black hole of who that man could be. It hadn’t occurred to him that her network of eager-to-please, panting males also extended back home, where her high school friends had been apparently limited to Thea and Thea. Quickly, they gathered the luggage, helped along by the first class designation, and he urged the driver to speed his way back to the house. Oliver knew it was a longshot that Felicity had gone straight to his parents’ or that her “friend” would still be there but he had to try.

They had spent the remainder of the flight in silence while his mind had figuratively raced the plane back to Starling City. Oliver had gone over every interaction he could recall having with Felicity, both with friends and family and the rare occasions they were alone. He’d always tried to downplay the way she drew him in, especially over the last few years when they barely had a reason to see each other and absence made his heart fonder, but had he swung too far on the pendulum? Buried his interest so deep that it looked like he couldn’t stand her instead?

Apparently, yes, if Felicity thought he was constantly judging her and finding her lacking. She had made it sound like he loathed her, and also sounded as if his poor opinion sincerely bothered her. Which was news to him.

Oliver could have sworn that Felicity didn’t spare him a single thought other than as Thea’s older brother: an old crush, someone who could get her into frat parties, and an occasional dinner companion during family visits. To know that she placed value on his opinion, that she was genuinely upset by his apparent disapproval of her, he didn’t actually know what to do with that.

Maybe she hadn’t written him off entirely like he thought. Maybe he should use this week to show her that he didn’t disapprove of her at all. He wouldn’t play his entire hand—that the crushed-on had basically become the one crushing—but enough to persuade her that he liked her as a person and as a long-standing part of his family.

He tried desperately to think of a way that wouldn’t invoke the dreaded judgmental and disapproving appearance or make her feel like he was being nice only out of guilt and obligation. By the end of the drive, Oliver figured he’d have to rely on his given charm to change her opinion.

To his surprise, there was a sleek, silver sports car in the driveway when they finally arrived. The vehicle looked like a crazy, top-of-the-line prototype, and Oliver knew exactly which of his former frat brothers would be driving that. As if on cue, Felicity emerged from the front door with Barry Allen, still lanky but looking more like a man than he did at 22, following close behind.

* * *

In high school, he’d felt ridiculous to be interested in a girl two, sometimes three, years younger when he had his pick of the senior class. So he put Felicity in the box labeled “little sister’s best friend” and used that as a mental block until he left for college.

Apparently, Felicity hadn’t liked that box much, taking it upon herself to utterly destroy it that first party her freshman year. His brain had short circuited— _what? who? how? damn it, Thea!—_ and after stalling as long as possible by greeting Thea and Caitlin, he had managed to awkwardly pat her on the shoulder before slinking away to reboot his world. It had been hard enough to keep his interest under wraps when she was cute; it was near impossible once she realized she was sexy and seemed determined to prove it with every guy in his fraternity.

Fortunately, he’d managed to scare off nearly all of the brothers, and even some of their relatives, from pursuing her. Unfortunately, the only exception was Barry Allen, a younger pledge Oliver had overlooked as a harmless kid.

Until the morning he’d unexpectedly stumbled on Felicity bouncing out of Barry's room at the frat house and casually throwing back, “That was fun, let’s do it again soon.” Oliver felt his world tilting until a touch on his waist, that of the girl from the night before, grounded him to the present. After a moment’s standoff, Felicity gave him a wry smirk and walked away. That wouldn’t be the last time he found her tumbling out of Barry's room in the morning, looking relaxed and wearing the night before’s clothes.

Oliver knew then that he didn’t stand a chance, not if Barry Allen was her type. Hard-working, intelligent, loyal, _good_. All the things he wasn’t, and the exact kind of guy Felicity deserved.

She had turned college into specially designed torture, save for the reprieves when she was out of sight, but rarely out of mind, at her own school. Although, to be fair, Felicity never intentionally set out to torture him. She acted no differently than the typical undergrad, himself included; Oliver just couldn’t stop himself from overreacting.

The first time when he’d pulled that MIT kid off her, he’d panicked after realizing that she and Thea had gotten separated. The next time, he’d been horrified to discover Felicity Smoak of all people venturing down the same path of nameless hook-ups that he had. Finally, with Barry, a decent candidate for a real relationship, he didn’t have a shadow of a reason to interfere. But even when her and Barry's relationship stalled, he couldn’t hypocritically stop her from experiencing college the same way most everyone else did—slightly drunk with the occasional regrettable partner.

Just because it twisted up his guts—and maybe his heart a little bit—didn’t mean she had to stop having fun to spare his uncertain feelings. Which she never needed to know about.

So he resigned himself to being the distant older brother type, which was probably how she got the crazy idea that he disapproved of her. Oliver determinedly packed her back into the “little sister’s best friend” box and did his damnedest to ignore her attempts to break free again. Except the more he tried to ignore her, the more she was entertained by deliberately provoking him.

* * *

“Oliver!” Barry greeted him as enthusiastically as ever, oblivious to the tension that hung over Felicity and Oliver. He shook Oliver’s hand energetically once the man reluctantly extended it. “I thought I wouldn’t catch you. Felicity said we beat you here for sure, and I’ve got to get the Flash back to Central City.”

“Barry’s test driving STAR Labs’ new prototype. He calls it the Flash,” Felicity offered to erase some of his confusion. “When I heard he’d be passing through Starling, I knew I had to take him for a ride.” Oliver narrowed his eyes at her innuendo and realized that, no, she was not at all trying to help him. “Barry knows I like it hard and fast.”

The other man quickly colored and choked on air, finally catching on to where the conversation had gone. “Uh, no, no. I wasn’t--there was no-- _speeding?_ No _speeding_ , at all, for either of us. Wouldn’t break... laws like that. I’m going to go. It was great to see you both.” Barry jumped into the prototype, forgoing Felicity’s customary hug goodbye, and was out of there like a flash.

Oliver’s mind continued to wrestle with the insinuation. He knew from Barry’s reaction that Felicity’s suggestion didn't actually have a basis in reality, but it wasn’t hard to imagine what with the tight confines and the vibrations of the obviously fast car.

His preoccupation was how he missed Felicity eying him warily. She knew Isabel was watching from one of the front sitting rooms; the woman had arrived early, offering to help Moira prepare for the night’s reception and dinner—because the Queen matriarch didn’t have a full staff at her command. Plus, Isabel had made an unsavory accusation when Barry had popped in to see Thea and was undoubtedly trying to drive a wedge in her and Oliver’s “relationship”.

So, despite falling back on old habits just now with Barry who knew the score from college, Felicity decided to suck it up. She and Thea had silently confirmed that the plan was still on while Isabel and Barry uncomfortably chitchatted, and beside that, she was still curious about what a relationship with Oliver would be like. She figured it was her last and only chance to genuinely flirt with him, to smile at him just because, to lean into his touch—instead of scolding herself for having feelings for a man who didn’t reciprocate, who had passed judgment and found her sorely lacking.

Oliver shivered when Felicity unexpectedly closed the distance between them. Her movements loose and languid, she wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned up to his ear, pressing herself fully against him. _Fuck_ , he felt amazing. Her lips brushed against his stubble, and Oliver braced himself for the next devastating innuendo to fall from her lips.

“Isabel is here and spying on us.”

Disappointed and relieved in equal parts, he groaned and hung his head, her words having the same effect as a bucket of ice water. Even though he hadn't given himself permission to touch, his arms tightened around her when Felicity laughed brightly, the same laugh that had drawn him down the hallway and to Thea’s room the day they had met.

Oliver was shocked to see real amusement in her eyes. He couldn’t remember the last time Felicity had been genuine—and not some artificially produced version designed for his maximum frustration—when it was just the two of them. After their conversation on the plane, he had been expecting a cold shoulder and gotten as much with her deliberate innuendos. And he knew that she would play the part of his girlfriend to unnerve Isabel, because being constantly slandered as an unethical ladder-climber rightfully bothered her.

But this—her in his arms with a lingering smile on her face—had potential.


	3. Chapter 3

Thea had done most of the legwork for the pre-dinner cocktail reception. She had fended off Moira’s ceaseless questions by informing her mother that too many questions would scare off Oliver and Felicity’s brand new relationship and that they were uncomfortable with PDA, especially in a crowd that had known them in one capacity for so long and that was still suspicious of Felicity’s place with the Queens. Instead of mounting an inquisition against her children, the Queen matriarch went into mama bear mode, coldly and methodically cutting down anyone who dared to suggest impropriety between Felicity and Oliver.  

So, aside from Oliver’s initial disapproving glare at her gown (or lack thereof she supposed), Felicity had been free to spend the cocktail hour catching up Thea and Iris, the Central City journalist Felicity knew through Barry and who had taken an interest in Thea’s many hospitality and entertainment investments. She was spared any interactions with Oliver until dinner when she found her place card next to his. After an attempt to switch places with Thea, which was communicated entirely through eyebrow movements and quickly aborted when Moira raised her own inquiring eyebrow at their antics from her seat at the foot of the table, Felicity reluctantly settled in for the five course dinner. She could only pray that the façade she used around Oliver to convey superficial courtesy was still functioning.

They had reached the dessert course with minimal interactions, thanks to the demands on their attention from other guests, when Felicity felt a discomforting crawl down her spine. She was used to the distinct feeling of disdain whenever she attended an event with the Queens. First, as the homely charity case Thea had apparently adopted out of pity, and then later, as the improbable rags-to-riches success story with her meteoric rise through the ranks at Palmer Tech. No matter what she did, Starling City society would not let go of the unwelcome and farfetched suspicion that she had conned her way into said situations.

But this disdainful glare was different, less suspicious and more spiteful. As suspected, when she casually glanced around the formal dining table, filled to the gills with the who’s who of Starling City, Felicity found Isabel Rochev glaring a hole into her head. The woman brooked no remorse at being caught in the act and only sneered before taking a long sip of what Felicity assumed was straight vodka.

In response, Felicity smiled brightly and turned to Oliver. _Showtime_. Without interrupting his conversation with the deputy mayor, she picked up his hand, intertwined their fingers, and brushed a light kiss onto his knuckles. She intended it to be a breezy, almost careless, gesture, designed to imply a level of familiarity and comfort in their “relationship” that just didn’t exist. And she would have succeeded except that she shivered when his calloused fingers tightened around hers and faltered, with her lips still attached to the back of his hand, when his surprised blue eyes met hers. 

“Isabel is watching,” she murmured quietly in explanation, pretending to nuzzle against his hand. Oliver inhaled sharply, keeping his eyes on hers even as she knew he was scanning the rest of the table for the wicked witch.

He leaned in closer and, under the guise of dropping a chaste kiss on her cheek, whispered, “Not anymore. But, thanks, mine now.”

Felicity jolted away at the curious statement, but he had already turned back to his conversation, still firmly holding her hand. Oliver kept their fingers interlocked, disregarding her discreet attempts to tug free, and proceeded to awkwardly hold utensils with his left hand. While Felicity did her level best to not grumble and ignore the captive appendage, she couldn’t help but notice how often Oliver would stare, almost marvel, at their joined hands.

It was almost enough to give her false hope.

* * *

Their dinnertime hand-holding had not gone unnoticed. To the point where Felicity felt like she was trapped in the receiving line for a wedding—or more accurately, a funeral—while Moira preened in a corner and Thea talked down an openly suspicious Tommy in another. Every time someone would comment with _Finally!_ , Oliver tugged her closer, shifted his hand to some previously unexplored territory on her arms, neck, shoulders, or back, and accepted the felicitations with a grin. And every time she would shiver at his fingers lightly coasting along her spine, he would ignore her glare and deliberately repeat the action with a small smirk.

Felicity tried to convince herself to relax, to enjoy Oliver’s touch without reservation while she could—and maybe also feel up his muscles a little bit—but there was a relentless sinking feeling in her stomach, reminding her that she was living on borrowed time. She’d always wanted to know how it would feel to be the recipient of Oliver’s genuine affection, and now she felt like she was flying too close to the sun.

He was doing too good a job of pretending: seamlessly interjecting intimate moments into boring conversations, effortlessly dropping terms of endearment she’d never heard him use with women, casually redirecting her attention to him whenever he felt neglected, which was apparently all of the time. He looked at her differently, contemplative instead of judgmental, and quickly cut off any suggestion that her VP position resulted from anything but her qualifications and hard work, of the non-sexual variety.

And Felicity had no idea if he was just this good at acting or if he was trying to make up for her earlier complaint of feeling inadequate around him. Neither option was the answer she truly wanted. If he didn’t stop—the touching, the compliments, the persistent defense of her honor, all of it—she was going to be completely gone on him.

_This was such a bad idea._

The mental loop just would not shut up so she took the first excuse she could find—Iris on the other side of the room—and all but bolted from Oliver’s wandering hands. Okay, so they weren’t wandering so much as there weren’t many appropriate places he could touch her and not encounter bare skin, thanks to her unfortunate packing. Fuck fashion and its insistence on sleeveless, backless, thin-strapped gowns for the season. Didn’t _Vogue_ know that it was winter?

Thankfully, Iris was prepared for Felicity’s sudden embrace and to be subsequently dragged into an empty hallway. “So many questions. I don’t know where to start. Is this why Barry told me to brace myself, winter was coming? That was a dumb place to start, but I didn’t get the reference at first since it’s already winter and I’m not sure that it makes sense now even with context. Holy smokes, Smoak!”

Felicity hushed the excited woman’s exclamation, unsurprised that Iris knew so much given her superior observational abilities and Barry’s complete inability to keep a secret from her. Oh, and those times she’d drunkenly cried on Iris’ shoulder when she was supposed to be convincing her to see Barry in a new light. But, hey, those two crazy kids worked it out for themselves.

“Oliver and I are pretending to be a couple because Moira’s trying to pawn Isabel off on him, and I thought it’d be a good, last ditch effort to see what it would be like if he didn’t view me as, you know, Thea’s best friend who is a slightly slutty, drunk mess that he feels the need to babysit and glare at disapprovingly, but now he’s acting like this perfect, devoted, touchy, _so touchy_ boyfriend and I am _freaking out_.” After she expelled all that information in one quiet ramble, Iris started emitting a high-pitched squeal, and Felicity lightly slapped her arm in warning. Who knew where Isabel had spies.

After taking a deep breath and frantically waving her hands, Iris visibly pulled it together. “Okay, okay, I’m good. A. I saw no disapproval, just a lot of gleeful “Holy shit, I can’t believe I’m touching her.” B. Fuck Rochev. Climb him like a tree if you need to prove that bitch wrong.” Iris grabbed her by the shoulders and spun her around, pushing Felicity back in the direction of the ballroom. “Your back looks awesome, Felicity. You been working out? No wonder Oliver can’t keep his hands off you.”

Felicity was just about to squeak out a response when the door opened, and Iris steered her right into Oliver’s chest. “There you are,” he greeted with a smile that caused her to actually squeak in response before his eyes landed on the person behind her.

“Iris West.” Oliver tried to keep the confusion out of his voice. He’d met the journalist at a few of Thea’s grand openings, especially now that she was expanding more concepts over to Central City, and he’d seen Felicity talking with Thea and Iris before dinner. But he had no idea that Felicity and Iris were close enough for what looked like an emergency session in an empty hallway.

“Oliver Queen,” Iris nodded at him, amused when his hand automatically reached for Felicity’s elbow, which she automatically leaned into then consciously shifted away from him. “Well, now that you’re here with yours, I should go find my date.”

Iris would have smoothly extracted herself from the situation if not for Oliver’s questioning look. “Barry,” at his continued confused expression, she continued, “Allen? He was in your frat, a couple years below you? Love of my life, that kid, but utterly hopeless at formal events. He said he was going to be late so I better go find him before he breaks any of your family heirlooms while wandering around lost.”

Oliver finally turned away from watching Iris escape back into the ballroom. He had tried to pin the woman down with his eyes for more answers, but she had just grinned and mouthed _Talk to her_ before disappearing with an encouraging smile. And he maybe would have taken her advice if he hadn’t been faced with an empty hallway.

* * *

Oliver wandered the halls, every once in a while shaking out his hands and trying to rid them of the light tingling that had taken up residence. He had meant to keep it friendly and show that he was proud of her and her accomplishments, that he couldn’t imagine a better best friend for his sister—or really, a more perfect woman—but Oliver had gotten distracted by her flawless skin, so much of it bared in her sophisticated gown and just there for the touching. 

At first, she had leaned into him, reciprocated with a lingering touch on his arm or chest or, his favorite, a sharp tug on a suspender to turn him her way. So he may have gotten greedy, and unconsciously decided to drown himself in the feel of her while he could. Felicity had the habit of shivering whenever he stroked along her spine a certain way, and he was maybe a little addicted to that reaction. At some point, he must have overstepped her tolerance as both a generally touchy person and fake girlfriend, and she hurried away after a flimsy excuse.

Oliver realized too late that he had lost himself in the fantasy world too easily. They weren’t really together; they didn’t really have inside jokes and coded messages to get each other through a night of mind-numbing family and business obligations; she didn’t really want him to be touching her or to be touching him. Oliver had tried to track her down to apologize, maybe have that conversation about how he didn’t actually hate her and how the hell could she possibly think that. But she’d used Iris as a distraction to slip him, and now he was aimless in his own home after checking her usual haunts.

Lost in thought, Oliver nearly walked into the door of a rarely used storage closet when it suddenly opened. “Barry,” the growl was instinctive when the man sheepishly emerged from around the door, “What are you doing in a storage closet? Alone?”

“Hey, Oliver!” Barry greeted him with a quick grin and an even quicker hug that Oliver didn’t have time to sidestep. “I was running a little late and didn’t want to draw attention to myself. Iris said she’d meet me out front, but I’d already gotten lost in here before I got her text. Help a guy out?”

At the reminder that the unnaturally cheery man was now with Iris and (probably) no longer interested in Felicity, Oliver lost a little bit of his growl. “You missed dinner and you’re so far from the party it’s not even funny.” He dropped a heavy hand on the other man’s shoulder and turned to direct him in the right direction.

Barry tried not to rubberneck in the halls as Oliver hastily pushed him along. “Then what are you doing all the way out here?”

“Looking for Felicity,” he let the answer slip out without meaning to. Just as he remembered, the guy had a knack for unintentionally lowering his defenses, and the last thing Oliver wanted to do was talk about Felicity with her ex-boyfriend.

“About that,” Barry drew to a stop and nervously rubbed the back of his neck. “I know what it looked like in college, but you know that Felicity and I never had the relationship everyone thought we did, right?”

“Oh, Barry, Barry, Barry,” Oliver clicked his tongue in warning and prodded the slighter man to keep walking. “I really don’t want to talk about you and Felicity right now.”

“No, I know. You guys are feeling things out still. Can I just say _finally_?” Oliver growled, and Barry backed away slightly. “I know what it looked like in college, and I know that it bothered you more than you let on, which was a lot actually. Seemed to bother you _a lot_ , you were always crazy pissed off at me.”

Barry steamrolled over Oliver’s quick denial, “But anyway since you’re together, I think you should talk to her about it. I mean, I told Iris the truth.”

“Good for you,” Oliver grumbled under his breath before gesturing to the double doors in front of them, “This is your stop.” He pulled open a door and firmly pushed the protesting man through it.

Now to figure out what the hell Barry had been talking about.

* * *

“Felicity? I wasn’t really expecting to find you here.” Tommy pulled himself upright after all but tripping over the stilettos he had overlooked. Thea had panicked and sent him out as a search party once she realized Oliver, Felicity, Iris, and potentially Barry—that kid was always running late—were all missing at approximately the same time. 

Felicity scoffed but threw over some of her blanket when Tommy eased down onto the pantry floor beside her. “What? A girl can’t wallow in her favorite hiding place?”

He nudged her slightly, chuckling when her head automatically dropped to rest on his shoulder. “You haven’t needed this place in years. Since the first time you came back during college. All grown up and in charge of the world.”

Tommy remembered being floored when he arrived for the first of the Queen holiday events that year, less at the change in Felicity’s physical appearance, because she’d always been pretty, and more at the change in her personality. Modest and shy had been replaced with confident and almost bold, especially where a certain Queen was involved. As a result, Tommy had turned watching Oliver try to hide his attraction to Felicity into a drinking game.

Felicity shrugged, flashing him a dejected smile. “You know what they say. The more things change—”

“The more Ollie’s still an oblivious dick?” Tommy cut in with a laugh. “As excited as Thea seemed, am I really supposed to believe that you two are dating? Just like that?”

Her initial response was to be offended before it settled into curiosity. “Why not? Is it really so strange?” Because if Tommy, who platonically thought the world of her, was skeptical of a relationship between her and Oliver, his best friend who he wanted only the best for, then maybe they really were unthinkable.

“Oliver’s been trying to pretend he doesn’t see you as more than his little sister’s best friend for years. You’ve been trying to taunt him into crossing that line for years.” He patted her thigh sympathetically when Felicity choked on her surprise. “You two really aren’t at all subtle. Maybe you guys should just hash it out because it’s obvious all of that... weirdness is still in play. Everyone knows you care about each other more than you’d like us to believe.”

* * *

“Hey buddy!” Oliver tried to hide his scowl when he noticed that Tommy’s suit was rumpled and his best friend was carrying Felicity’s favorite blanket from the media room. “Where you headed?”

“Where are you coming from?” he returned suspiciously, folding his arms over his chest when Tommy seemed to be purposefully blocking his way.

“The pantry,” Tommy replied slowly, knowing Oliver would read between the lines. He held his hands up in a placating manner. “Had a nice chat with Felicity, your _girlfriend_.”

Sighing heavily, Oliver dropped back on his heels. He should have known that Tommy would see right through him. Aside from Thea and his parents, who would love for Felicity to officially become a part of the family, Tommy was the biggest, silent-yet-knowing cheerleader for him to man up about everything. His best friend had never plainly stated it, but it was hard to miss with the constant judgmental and knowing looks—and the ever-sophisticated drinking game.

“What do you know?”

“That you two need to talk,” Tommy stated all-knowingly. “And that she went up to her room. You’re welcome,” he called to Oliver’s back.

* * *

“Crap, Oliver! I know this is your house but this is my room and I really don’t appreciate being spied on.”

After parting ways with Tommy in the pantry, Felicity had jumped into a hot shower to wash away the lingering effects of Oliver’s touch, but it hadn’t done much and she could still feel phantom grazes just about everywhere. She had just about resigned herself to a night of fitful sleep when she’d emerged from the en suite and found Oliver, sans jacket and bowtie, fiddling with the matches for her menorah.

She could see Oliver’s back tense under his shirt, and he turned to respond before dropping the matchbook in his hand in surprise. “Sorry,” he nearly shouted, realizing she was wrapped in only a short towel and twisting back around. Maybe he should ask Raisa about providing guests with larger towels, like curtain-sized towels. “Are you decent?” he ventured once the sound of rustling fabric died down.

He heard her scoff before she replied, “For this time of night, sure.”

Oliver wasn’t sure what to expect when he did turn, but her under the covers, almost surely _naked_ under the covers, wasn’t really it. He raised a questioning eyebrow, and Felicity carelessly shrugged a shoulder. “I sleep naked. Have your parents kick me out if it makes you that uncomfortable, Oliver.”

Ignoring the obvious bait she laid out, he sighed deeply, “Why do you do that? Turn every interaction between us unnecessarily sexual.”

“You really want to do this? Here and now, with a bunch of your parents’ business associates drunk downstairs?” When his only response was a decisive nod, it was her turn to sigh. The conversation with Tommy, who saw so easily what she went to great lengths to hide, had worn her nerves raw, and she was tired. “Fine. You annoy me.”

And she was frustrated from being felt up half the night by the guy of her dreams for appearance’s sake and also maybe a little drunk and more than a little vulnerable because she had banked on Oliver running from the room when he realized she was naked under the covers, and now that bravado was backfiring on her. These were the only reasons Felicity could think of for giving that answer, and Oliver was not going to take it well.

“ _What!?_ ”

Oliver was incredulous because nothing could have prepared him for that response. Unresolved sexual tension, the need to prove herself attractive, the need to prove him weak. Any of those would have worked just fine, anything but the idea that he _annoyed_ her. Like a gnat, like a little boy desperate for her attention.

Felicity chewed on her lip, trying to decide if and how she should walk that back. But Tommy was right, they needed to hash this out, and it would be unfair if her outburst on the plane was the last word. So, in for a penny, in for a pound.

“You’re disapproving and judgmental about the fact that I’m not still a 15 year-old girl, that I drink alcohol and like guys. You’re weirdly possessive and jealous whenever I’m around guys who aren’t you. I think you’re just angry with yourself for being attracted to your little sister’s best friend, and you can’t stop yourself from trying to prove that you’re the one with the power like it’s always been. So you keep making me want you, but it’s unfair and _annoying_ , since you don’t actually want me back. And that makes me sad and depressed and pathetic because I’ve spent half my life half in love with a guy who only wants me despite his better judgment. So, yes, I enjoy making you squirm by being _unnecessarily sexual_ because it’s the only way to keep you uncomfortable and distracted enough so that you’re not insincerely flaunting your _everything that I’m already half in love with_  at me all of the time.”

He maintained eye contact for a moment, letting her answer sear its way into his bones. Then Oliver stomped over to her open suitcase and grabbed the first large item of clothing he laid hands on, tossing it on the bed next to her. “Put that on.” Felicity rolled her eyes as if to say he was proving her point, and he uselessly clenched his fists tightly. “Just put some clothes on. I can’t have this conversation with you naked in bed.” The words alone sent his mind spiraling, and he turned to give her the semblance of privacy.

Once Felicity had ducked under the covers to slip the T-shirt over her head and was standing next to the bed, Oliver only blinked sluggishly at her. “What?” she questioned, tugging at the hem of the oversized shirt and feeling self-conscious in front of him in a way she hadn’t allowed herself to feel in years. And it was strange to see Oliver so blatantly out of control like this, like at that first frat party when he’d hauled an unsuspecting Cooper off her.

“That’s my shirt,” Oliver ground out through his clenched teeth, and she did a double take at herself. A favorite of hers that she’d stolen from Thea and that Thea must have stolen from him. “ _Fuck._ How do you look that good? I want you.”

Felicity rolled her eyes because hadn’t she just told him that? Except he didn’t really mean it, and even if he did, he hated himself for it—and maybe also hated her for it—and was never going to do anything about it. “Well, admitting you have a problem is the first step,” she snarked back, crossing her arms over her chest.

“You don’t get it. I’ve _always_ wanted you,” Oliver insisted, frustrated that she seemed to be deliberately misunderstanding him. 

Felicity gave a bitter laugh because they were always talking in circles. “Yeah, I get that. The problem is you don’t want to.”

“Yes, I do. I might be frustrated that I can never turn it off, but that’s not the problem. The problem is that you’ve been punishing me by flaunting your _everything that I’ve been half in love with for half my life_ at me, probably because I didn’t react the way you wanted me to in the middle of a stupid frat party where I later interrupted you making out with some wannabe cyber criminal. So, of course, I thought that you were just passing the time by playing the game of how often could you get your best friend’s older brother to pop an inappropriately timed hard on.”

“ _Really?_ ” she interjected almost involuntarily, skimming her eyes over his body with an intensity he could feel from across the room.

Oliver continued as if she hadn’t interrupted, “The answer, by the way, is every time, all of the time. The only thing I hated about wanting you was how it was just a game to you, how you never seemed to actually want me back. I’m _sorry_ if I came across disapproving and judgmental but I was disappointed that it wasn’t me you wanted and I had to cope with it somehow.”

They stared at each other with a vague sense of horror, realizing that they’d just destroyed six years of carefully built façades in a rush of anger and defensiveness.

Felicity limply dropped her crossed arms. “That was... really not how I was expecting this to go.” She pulled her glasses off to run a hand over her tired eyes. “But you’re _you,_ ” her declaration was met with a confused shrug so Felicity rolled her eyes and continued, “You’re Oliver Queen. You’re Thea’s ridiculously good-looking older brother, who’s the heir to a bazillion dollars and had to put up with my _stupid_ high school crush. You overcame everyone’s expectations and pulled yourself together despite the teenage dirtbag history to the contrary and you sleep with supermodels and you can’t want _me_.”

Felicity deflated from her ass-backwards rant about his over-qualifications when she noticed Oliver was just gawking at her. Great, she probably talked reason into him, and he was now realizing that this—them—was ridiculous.

“Well, you’re _you_ ,” Oliver countered after a long moment of silence. “You’re stupid hot and probably going to cure cancer using computer code one day. I don’t care if that’s technically impossible. You work for a crazy smart billionaire who looks like a movie star and stares at you like he wants you to have his babies. What the hell do you want with _me_?”

“This might be the most absurd conversation in the history of the world.” Felicity shook her head in disbelief because really? This was how they were going to hash out their apparently mutual feelings of inadequacy? “So you haven’t been silently judging me for drinking and hooking up with random guys.”

“No.” When she raised a skeptical eyebrow at him, he reluctantly backtracked, “I mean, sort of but not really. You’re allowed to have fun, to do whatever you want. I just wanted it to be me, and you apparently didn’t want it to be me. Not if guys like Barry are your type.”

“Nothing happened with Barry.” Her admission was quiet but Oliver looked at her with pure disbelief and she rolled her eyes. “That’s not to say nothing has ever happened. I did date. I’m not, you know, whatever, not important right now,” Felicity quickly glossed over when the vein in his neck started visibly throbbing. “Just generally a lot less happened than you think—not that you’ve any room to judge, mister—and, specifically, with Barry, nothing happened. He’s been in love with Iris basically his entire life, I was trying to make you jealous, and it helped his reputation at the frat to stand up to you. I know you put some weird embargo on anyone trying anything with me; I thought because you thought I wasn’t good enough for your friends.”

“Yeah, I did,” Oliver admitted shamelessly, “But because I was jealous and they aren’t good enough for you. I was aiming for aloof older brother, not to make you think I hated you. Guess I overshot.” Felicity grumbled a _No shit_ under her breath, and he couldn’t help but laugh. “So, just to be clear, you really were trying to sexually frustrate me during all those parties?”

“Maybe a little bit, kind of, yes,” Felicity cringed guiltily before deciding to drive at the heart of the matter. “Oliver, I want you so bad that I spent half of college acting like someone I’m not, just to spite you for not wanting me.” It was the first time she’d admitted that out loud, and it sounded as ridiculous as it had felt for all those years. Yet the admission caused Oliver to smile brightly, and she instinctively drifted closer to him and his now outstretched hand.

All those years of pretending to be indifferent, of “nobly” stepping aside, and for nothing. It felt like wasted years, except for how college Oliver probably wouldn’t have truly appreciated college Felicity and college Felicity probably would have severely overestimated college Oliver. “Well, that’s... flattering.”

“Oliver!” She jerked her hand back from where it had been reaching for his and fixed him with a steely glare. Oliver dropped the cocky smirk and expelled a long breath before he pushed himself to meet her halfway.

“I want you too. I’ve spent the last six years pretending I didn’t because I thought you weren’t really interested and I didn’t want to face the rejection.” Finally, she took his hand, and Oliver smiled, because this time she was the one initiating the contact.

Felicity drew his arms around her waist and slid her hands up his chest to clutch his shoulders before pressing up for their first kiss. Almost immediately, it melted into something deeper and more insistent, and almost simultaneously, they decided to forget that they were under his parents’ roof.

She felt Oliver rubbing a little frantically at her hips and pulled away in question. “Do you really sleep naked? That wasn’t a ‘lie to kill Oliver with sexual frustration’ moment?” Felicity stifled a laugh against his throat and nodded in the affirmative, wrapping her legs around him when he hitched her up.

He exhaled sharply against her right ear when she tightened her thighs, gluing them together, and Felicity stilled in apprehension. _Shit_ , her industrial piercing. The first time he’d noticed it, Oliver had actually yelled at her, surpassing Donna, Moira, and Robert combined in the overprotective parent reaction—three people she really didn’t want to be thinking about right now.

“I’ve waited a long time for this,” Oliver murmured before he slipped his tongue under the bar of her piercing and tugged. The unexpected sensation sent her hips stuttering against his, and he faltered, dropping her onto the mattress and barely catching himself from crushing her.

In retaliation, Felicity slipped her fingers around his suspenders—she’d noticed his slight inhalation whenever she’d tugged at them earlier downstairs—and used them as a leash to guide him fully on top of her. “Sneaky bastard, I thought you hated my piercing.”

“I did. ‘S fucking sexy. Had actual wet dreams about nibbling on your ear. Your ear, Felicity. Do you how often I woke up feeling like a perverted idiot?” Oliver couldn’t stop grinning because of course this was how their first time would be: easy, fun, relaxed, honest.

“Not as often as I did. I was 15 the first time I saw you in a tux,” she reminded him, snapping the black elastic against his chest. Her hands went to the top button of his shirt, and she smiled wickedly. “How much do you like this shirt? Because I’ve been waiting a very long time to do something, too.”

“You’ve been waiting a long time to rip my shirt open?” Oliver couldn’t help but ask, and Felicity took it as an invitation to pull sharply at the sides of his shirt, sending the buttons flying. 

He was smiling too hard at her giddiness to question it further and was taken off guard when she suddenly managed to flip their positions and straddle his hips. “No, that was just a fun way of opening my present. I’ve been waiting a long time to lick your abs.” Her statement was followed by warm hands and a hot tongue on his chest, and Oliver promptly choked on air.

“So worth the wait. This is going to be legendary.”


End file.
